


Understood

by lamardeuse



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-13
Updated: 2010-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right around the time they had that Talk with them in school, he started dreaming about the guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for due South Flashfiction on Livejournal (hourglass challenge).

~ _Sleeping_ ~

  


Right around the time they had that Talk with them in school, he started dreaming about the guy.

Scared the hell out of him--the only wet dreams he'd ever had were about Stella or this unidentified redhead who blew him in the boys' locker room--not that he would have a clue what a blow job felt like.

Anyway.

It was scary because although the lay teacher who gave them Health or Personal Development or whatever-they-were-calling-it-this-year classes--although he never talked about it, there wasn't any question having wet dreams about a guy, no matter how unbelievably beautiful he happened to be, was a Sure Ticket to the Hot Place. Intent, commission, didn't matter to an RC. And there was kind of a little commission there, now that he thought about it, considering he woke up with sticky sheets every time the son of a bitch popped into his head.

So he was doomed, basically.

Another scary-weird thing about the dreams is that they were cold, cold, cold, and that was a big part of it, because he was in the middle of this vast, incredible coldness and the only source of heat for miles was the other guy. It wasn't just sex, it was survival, and that blew his mind even more than the redhead. The guy was like a fuckin' furnace, melting the ice and the snow until they were puddles, sliding in and around each other until there was no way of telling who was who anymore.

But the real capper was sometimes, usually at the end when he was really enjoying mingling his puddle with the other guy's puddle, he'd look up at the sky, and this crazy greeny electric glow would leap and jerk and dance and shimmer overhead. At first he'd kind of step outside the dream for a sec, and his fourteen-year-old pea brain would snicker and think of those old movies his dad watched Saturday mornings, where instead of showing the guy and girl fucking, they'd cut to the fireworks. But it wasn't like any fireworks he'd ever seen--more quiet, less colourful, but also more spectacular, and more amazingly, heartbreakingly _real_. And so after a while he stopped snickering and laid back to enjoy the show.

That time, the greeny-glow time, was the only time his dream guy would talk. And he always said the same thing.

"Do you understand now?"

And he'd think, _understand what? That I'm a fag? _

And then he'd wake up.

    
    
    
    
 

~ _Waking _~

  


"You want to what?"

"I thought I spoke quite clearly, Ray."

Okay, so Fraser was a little peeved.

Okay, so Ray had had a hand in making him that way.

"I'm just wondering where this sleeping under the stars impulse is coming from, considering we have a perfectly nice tent and to my knowledge, said tent is still with us, and in A-1 condition."

And then Fraser looked at him in that way, the way he was sure Fraser had no clue about, the way that shot five-fucking-thousand volts of electricity straight through him, all of it ending up right in his dick. If Ray got treated to that look more often, he'd never need hair gel again. It would be 'Ray's hair is up' every damn day.

It was the look that said, _I'm about to fuck with you. _

"You'll see," Fraser said.

That's it?

"And what will I see, exactly?" Ray persisted.

The look disappeared.

Shit.

"Nothing, Ray. You're right. I was attempting to operate on instinct. But why break a successful--pattern?"

Ray stared. Stared some more.

Fraser began to set up the tent.

"Hold it."

Fraser frowned at him.

"Look. I'm, ah, I'm down with busting a few patterns. Just don't wake up one morning and expect me to supply the logic in this duet, alright?"

The frown dripped away, leaving a shiny new smile. "Understood, Ray."

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

 

Oh man, oh man, oh _man. _

"But it's logical, Ray," Fraser'd said.

Of course it was. Made perfect sense. Without the tent, it was necessary to pool that ol' body heat. So Fraser had zipped their sleeping bags together. No prob.

If only he hadn't been giving him That Look while he explained it.

"Don't fall asleep yet," Fraser scolded him.

"'M not sleeping," Ray countered. "Just keeping my eyes from drying out."

"Is this a congenital defect?"

"No, it's a it's-fucking-cold-out-so-my-eyes-get-dry...thing."

"That's ridiculous," Fraser said, but he moved closer, and Ray's temperature went up, and his eyes figured it was safe to start watering again.

Shit. The guy was a furnace.

Oh.

God.

Oh God ohgodohgodoh_shit_ohgod--

"Look!"

Ray looked.

The sky was green.

As amazing as it had been in his dream all those years ago, this was like the difference between scratchy mono vinyl records and Dolby stereo Surround Sound. It was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen, and the picture in his fourteen-year-old head couldn't even begin to compete. Though it wasn't because those pictures were wrong, or missing stuff, or in any way less than the real thing.

It was because as gorgeous as those dream visions had been, Ray hadn't been ready for them.

"Do you understand now?"

Ray turned his head, and saw a guy--no, a man--silhouetted by green fire.

"Yeah," he said, and pulled Fraser close enough to melt them both.

**Author's Note:**

> First published April 2003.


End file.
